Peace

Peace

What portals of a world never known
have I entered, as the wings drop
and the land recedes?
What desire, what yearning?
The solitary bird has reached
the heart of the land it was moving to,
and reaching there, it has lost the wing and direction. Lost to its purpose and the dreams,
it knows the need to feel
the joy in reaching there.
But it's lost; simply lost and cannot feel. And the joy is in the losing.
Dreams can fill the journey with a spell and a charm when it's the sky that leads the way.

That there are sometimes little towns snuggled in the shadows of darkened clouds,
is something like a mystery left behind;
the only reality being the dream and the sky.

Listen my friends, my companions of the jovial days,
listen to a different tune I sing.
Listen to the ripened sadness now.
Give a hand and hold me fast
as I falter and lose my step.
Never tell me again that I lost my way and strayed away
when the gate was near and the field ripe
but the bird did not know it had reached
the land of its dreams.
There is peace in oblivion.